Truth Be Told
by Potter47
Summary: If dreams were grounded in reality, life would be very interesting, wouldn’t it?
1. Amnesia

Truth Be Told  
_ Potter47_ _ Part I  
Amnesia_

The train ride had been long this year, but Harry could hardly remember it. He was in the Great Hall, now, sitting opposite Ginny at the Gryffindor table. Harry couldn't seem to look away from her, as though Ron and Hermione (sitting on either sides of him) were physically holding his head in place—but that didn't explain his eyes, which were locked upon her face with no key in sight.

After a while, she looked at him as well. She smiled slightly, and Harry did too. She spoke:

"They're waiting."

Harry blinked, or thought he did—he couldn't tell because suddenly the room was dark, _black _even, and he felt even more immovable than he had a moment before.

Harry was blind, now, blind in the dark—and then he was blinded, for a great spotlight fell upon him from above, and he saw that he was sitting on the Sorting Hat's stool, his wrists shackled to the sides of its seat. He looked round in desperation, but saw nothing save Ginny, at the Gryffindor table, smirking at him and nodding, a glimmer in an ocean of black. He heard her voice in the deafening silence:

"Tell them now."

He shook his head vehemently, or his head shook him—_Tell them what? _he thought, and he thrashed suddenly to one side, tipping the stool as he went.

—but _now _he was upright, so he must have been on the floor before, it seemed.

Harry jerked from one side to the other in the light, the vague outline of a man appeared at the edge of the light...

...it was Ron.

__

Ron? Harry thought. _What is Ron doing here...? _Harry shook his head. _Why wouldn't he be here? Of course he's here...but what's he doing?_

Ron walked up to Harry and just as he did, Hermione appeared beside him—Harry didn't know where she had come from.

"Tell them now, Harry," said Ginny again, but Harry couldn't see her. Ron and Hermione were standing just before him, staring at him in a way that was quite disturbing...as though they were using Legilimency on him... as though they were Snape, that's how Harry thought of it.

"Tell them what!" Harry cried out, and Ginny didn't answer. She didn't answer him, and he was scared. Terrified, and he felt his heartbeat quicken, and he felt the heart itself, trying to escape from his chest.

A third figure appeared, towering over the others perhaps a bit too dramatically. It walked with the grace of a god, though those were the two things it most certainly was _not._

Lord Voldemort stood before Harry, with Ron and Hermione flanking his sides. He smirked, and perhaps the smirk was a bit too wide, a bit too exaggerated. He quirked what would have been considered an eyebrow on anyone but himself.

"Why don't you tell them, Harry?" the Dark Lord said, and his cold, evil eyes gazed at Harry so deeply that their souls seemed intertwined. Harry felt sick. Suddenly, the Dark Lord's eyes flickered up for a moment, to a point behind Harry. "Look!" said the Dark Lord, pointing.

A flash of red in the corner of Harry's eye, and he spun his neck round farther than he thought it could go to see Ginny walking by him calmly, walking away, not looking his way.

"Where are you going? Ginny!" Harry leaned towards her with all his strength and the stool tipped once more...

...Ginny spun round just as the chair hit the floor, reaching out to him and calling his name...

...and his eyes opened.

"Harry!"

Ginny's face was just above his, and she was looking at him quite worriedly.

Harry blinked and tried to sit up, knocking his forehead against Ginny's. Both flinched back in pain, rubbing the spot. Ginny looked at him oddly for a moment after that, and he didn't know why.

"Are you all right?" she said after the look had passed. "You just...passed out, all of a sudden. No Dementors or anything."

He blinked some more and looked round the compartment—yes, they were in a compartment now, he remembered. Train ride...Hogwarts Express...going to Hogwarts...right. But...

"Where'd everyone go?" he asked.

"They left, remember? You were awake when they left."

"I was?"

"Yeah—Ron, Hermione, and Luna had prefect stuff—Neville lost Trevor again—Seamus and Lavender snuck off for a snog. You don't remember? Not even Seamus's attempt at lying? You could you forget something so _classic?_"

Harry blinked several more times, and he wondered if his eyes hadn't woken up yet...everything was blurry. Oh—his glasses had fallen off. Placing them back on his nose, Harry looked at Ginny, puzzled.

"Luna's a prefect? Seamus and Lavender are a..." He shook his head. "And they were sitting with us?"

Ginny's mouth fell open in surprise. "Harry, you're scaring me. Luna's been a prefect _all year. _And they've been going out for nearly as long as—hang on. Of course they were sitting with—" She placed a hand on the back of his head. "Harry, are you all right...? Did you hit something?"

Harry's head didn't hurt—_Especially not when she's touching it like that, _he thought. He shook it, now, and Ginny retracted her hand; Harry leaned his head forward with her hand involuntarily, making her sort-of smile.

"It's good to know you haven't forgotten _us_," she said, half-jokingly. Harry quirked his head.

"What?" he said, and Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Very funny. But seriously, what's the last thing you _do_ remember?"

Harry thought a moment. Then he sort of half-chuckled, but not very humorously. "I almost said the start of term feast, but that was just what I was dreaming about...And we haven't even got to Hogwarts yet, so—"

"Harry, what are you _talking about?_" said Ginny, shaking her head.

"You asked me what the last thing I remembered was—"

"What's the last thing you remember, then?" asked Ginny again, her eyes looking seriously worried.

Harry thought a moment longer. "Luna laughing, just like last year. Can't remember the joke, but it wasn't that funny—Ron said it...uh...what was it?"

A light dawned in Ginny's eyes, slowly, and when it did her face fell in disbelief and grief. "Are you joking, Harry?" she said. "You're joking with me, right?"

"No—why would I be joking with you?" He shook his head in frustration. "Oh, what _was _that joke...? It's gonna drive me barmy if I don't remember..."

Tears formed in Ginny's eyes, and Harry stopped trying to remember for a minute. "What's wrong?" he said. "Why are you...crying?"

"No!" said Ginny, and the word came out in a sob, and the tears streamed down more fully now, leaving Harry completely bewildered.

"No what?" Harry said. "What's wrong, Gin?"

"You don't remember," she said, and she blinked several times to clear the tears before a fresh onslaught destroyed her vision again. "You don't remember any of it."

"What on earth are you...Ginny, please tell me what's going on."

Ginny appeared nearly panicked; from just fine to completely distraught in five seconds flat. Harry wondered if even Cho could beat that.

Ginny leaned forwards suddenly and kissed Harry on the lips, completely out-of-the-blue, completely taking him by surprise...

...but then why did it feel so familiar?

Ginny pulled back, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and jogged her head up and down slightly, as if to say _Now do you remember? _

Nothing showed on Harry's face, nothing discernable anyway, and Ginny sobbed anew.

"What was that?" Harry said hoarsely, vaguely recalling how to speak. Ginny shook her head, and stood.

"Nothing, apparently," she said, and she left the compartment without another word, leaving Harry staring after her in befuddlement.

——

Ron and Hermione walked in front of Luna on the way from the prefect meeting—or behind her, if they were walking backwards while facing that way too. Hermione was talking about what they had been talking about during the meeting—something funny had been going on with the driver, they didn't think it was anything to worry about...whether they'd arrive on schedule...if they'd seen anyone acting up—but Luna didn't really pay attention to those sort of things, and of course Ronald wasn't paying attention either, so Hermione was pretty much talking to herself.

"I'm really rather worried about the driver, myself," she was saying, "it seems almost as though he doesn't know where he is, but he _does, _and I just don't get it..."

Luna shook her head, and wondered if there was anything Hermione _did _get, really. _Some of the things she comes up with...,_ Luna thought, shaking her head once more. It was sad, really.

Suddenly Ronald stopped walking, and Luna walked quite gracefully into him, ankle first.

"What?" said Hermione, looking back. "What is it?"

Ronald seemed almost dazed...he was blinking rapidly, and looking from side to side, searching for something—Luna didn't know what.

"What was that?" Ronald said.

"What was what?" Hermione said.

"No, what was _that,_" Luna corrected.

"I just...you didn't feel that?" Ronald said.

"I did," said Luna, though she didn't really know what he was talking about—if he meant her walking into him, then yes, she had felt it. Perhaps he had meant that...

"You did?" Ronald said, turning back to look at Luna. "What do you reckon it was?"

Luna shrugged. Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Probably nothing," she said, and continued walking. Ronald hesitated a bit, and before he could do the same, Luna spoke to him:

"What did it feel like?" she asked.

"What...the feeling? I thought you said you felt it."

Luna shook her head. "No, the sand."

Ronald blinked. "What sand?"

"In Egypt, of course. What did it feel like?"

Ronald furrowed his brow. "Er...sandy? Why—"

"I've always wanted to know what the sand felt like in Egypt," Luna explained. "Thank you."

Luna watched him unblinkingly and Ronald fidgeted under the gaze. Neither began walking, but neither had any plans to stay where they were for an extended period of time.

"So what did it feel like?" said Luna again.

"What, the sand? I said, it was...sandy—"

"No, silly," said Luna. "The feeling."

Ronald blinked again. "It was like...a prickling at the back of my neck."

Luna nodded. "I feel that all the time. But yours was different."

"Why?" Ronald said.

"Because someone's trying to see into your mind," Luna said simply, as though it were perfectly obvious.

"What?" said Ronald. "Someone's trying to—"

"See into your mind. Of course they are."

Ronald nodded, in a sarcastic sort of way. "_Right,_ Luna. I'm sure."

"So am I," said Luna, and she glanced down, away from his face for a minute, and then down either side of the corridor. "You know, I think we're standing in the middle of the train."

"_Really?_" said Ronald. "You're amazingly insightful today, you know that Luna?"

"No, I mean, we're directly halfway through the train. I've always wanted to find this spot...Daddy says it's good luck."

And Luna looked wistful for a moment, for some reason, and then seemed to decide something in her head. Decided, she then plopped down in the middle of the hallway and sat with her back against the wall, knees pulled up to her chin. She smiled.

"Good luck with your feeling," Luna said, and rested her head down on her knees, closing her eyes.

——

"Harry?" said Hermione, sliding open the compartment door. She furrowed her brow as she looked upon the boy, looking puzzled. "Where is everybody?"

"Ron, Hermione, and Luna had prefect stuff—Neville lost Trevor again—Seamus and Lavender snuck off for a snog. You don't remember?" he said emotionlessly, staring out the window.

Hermione blinked. "Harry, are you all right? And where's Ginny?"

Harry didn't say a word, continuing to gaze out the window at the rolling scenery that was passing...it had begun to rain, just a light sprinkle, and you could barely see the clouds in the sky.

"Harry?" Hermione walked over and sat down beside him, touching a hand to his shoulder. Harry shrugged it off, not looking at her. Her already furrowed brow became positively wrinkled, and her gaze became almost motherly. "What happened?"

Harry turned suddenly, and his face was right before Hermione's, their noses almost touching—he had a vehement look in his eyes, and almost-tears beneath them.

"_I don't know_," he said, and he said it in such a way that it was obvious that _this_ was what was wrong, this was what was bothering him. A moment later, Harry's head snapped back to where it had been before, and Hermione just looked at him, unsure of what to do.

"Harry, I...what is wrong? You have to tell me, Harry? Please, tell me."

Something in Harry seemed to snap, something clicked or broke, and he remembered something.

__

"Why don't you tell them, Harry?" said a voice in his head, a vapour-voice of no real substance. The words meant something, but..._what?_

__

"Tell them what?"

"I can't tell you," said Harry, shaking his head. "I can't remember."

"Did you hit your head? My dad hit his head once, and he couldn't remember anything for a while...couldn't even remember how to say my name. Is that it? Do you have amnesia?"

"Hermione," said Harry, shaking his head, "I know your name is Hermione."

"That's not what I meant," she said. She thought a moment. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"I remember remembering," said Harry, "but I can't remember what I could remember."

"Oh God," said Hermione, putting her hands on her forehead. "I leave the compartment for _five minutes, _and—" She shook her head. "I'll be back, Harry. I've got to do something."

"Bye," Harry said, looking out the window again, watching the raindrops fall.

——

Ron still stood, watching Luna, wondering perhaps what she was doing, and perhaps what he was doing wondering what she was doing.

She appeared to have...fallen asleep. She was breathing very evenly, and somehow she had managed to get into what seemed a comfortable position, at least for her.

He was just about to leave her there...to let her alone to sleep wherever she pleased, when she spoke:

"You know what, Ronald? We're going to go out this summer, you and I. We're going to go horseback riding."

It seemed Luna had been awake the whole time he had been watching her—Ron's ears heated up at the thought—but somehow...Ron wasn't sure that Luna _was _awake. He'd heard of sleep walkers before, but...sleep talkers?

Well, yeah, he had heard of sleep talkers—people who talked in their sleep, at least. But when someone is asleep...did they usually conduct a casual conversation with those who are in the room with them? Or corridor, as the fates would have it? He had never heard of that before.

"We are?" said Ron awkwardly.

"Oh, yes," said Luna, almost nodding. "We're going to go out to the mountains—maybe the ones by the lake, up in Catchpole. And we're going to ride on Belinda."

"Belinda?" Ron asked. "Who's Belinda—"

"My horse, of course," said Luna, and her cheeks sort of puffed out, as if she were smiling. "Mum told me when I was little all about how Belinda's the best name for a horse. I'm surprised you don't know that."

Ron didn't know why—maybe it was because he felt he would be there for a long time—but right then, he decided to do as Luna had done, and sat down opposite her, against the other corridor wall. Her foot seemed to sense this, and moved over just far enough so that his wouldn't kick it, but not so far that they wouldn't be touching once he had been settled.

"And then what are we going to do?" he said, humouring her, if that was the word for it.

"You're going to save me," she said matter-of-factly, and this time she _did _nod, he was sure of it.

"Save you? From what?" he said.

"From the kidnapper, of course." Her voice grew excited, and he wondered if she was dreaming this—not the description, not her ideal 'summer'...but the whole thing, him sitting there in the corridor, her across from him, and him listening to her. Yes, perhaps he was nothing more than a part of Luna's dream, because otherwise he couldn't fathom why he was there at all.

"Just as he takes me away, I scream your name—_Ronald!_" she said, imitating her own voice but not quite nailing it. "And you jump up on Belinda—we had been roasting marshmallows in the woods, you know, and Belinda had been resting with a nice crisp one in her mouth—and you charge after him, sword drawn—"

"Sword?" said Ron. "I don't have a sword."

"Of course you do. It says 'Godric Gryffindor' on it, everyone's seen it in Dumbledore's office—"

"That's Harry's—he—"

"That's what everyone says," Luna said. "But how could it be? It has _rubies, _and rubies are _red,_ after all, and that's _your _colour. If it was red—Weasley _hair_ red—then how could it be Harry's? Everyone's just so silly sometimes..."

Ron shook his head in disbelief, and his silence gave time for her to continue.

"You rescue me, of course, and drive the kidnapper away to the ends of the earth—or maybe just to the village jail, up in the village that's near there—and then we go back to where we'd been, and—" here her voice saddened greatly, "—our marshmallows burnt in the fire. Then we go and buy some more, and live happily ever after, of course."

Luna's cheeks puffed out again in a smile. "The end," she said with great satisfaction, and her head rose, eyes opening slowly, one at a time. Then she blinked rapidly. "Oh, hello, Ronald," she said. "Did you have a nice nap too? I had this wonderful dream about marshmallows..."

Ron looked at her strangely, and nodded. "Sure, Luna. Whatever you say."

——

Hermione walked away from the compartment, fitfully distracted, more than once forgetting what she had been doing. If only she hadn't been so very sidetracked, she may have heard the soft sounds of sobbing coming from the girls' loo as she passed it. She _was _so very sidetracked, however, so it doesn't really matter what _would _have happened if she hadn't been. There's no changing the past, after all.

——

Harry stood, shakily, and walked to the door of the compartment. He leaned against the doorway and peered out of it...no one was in the corridor to the left...someone might have been to the right, but Harry couldn't see them very clearly...as though they were sitting down or something, which was odd, he thought.

Harry stepped into the corridor, and his legs felt rather numb and tingly—as though he'd been leaning on them for ever, though he hadn't been at all. He walked to the left, towards the loo. He knocked—there was no answer, so he opened the door, and Harry was quite disturbed to find Seamus and Lavender there, doing...things which would quite disturb one if one were to walk in upon someone doing them. They didn't even notice him, it seemed, and he quickly shut the door again.

Harry let out a breath and leaned against the wall of the corridor, suddenly feeling very, very tired and weary, feeling a horrible weight on him, as though he were trying to carry Hagrid along the length of the train.

And then...he _was _trying to carry Hagrid along the length of the train, the half-giant himself holding several other, smaller and less significant people—Ron and Hermione and Neville and Luna were quite visible; Dumbledore was also there, though he for one seemed to find the ride delightful. The weight was killing Harry, but he trudged on, slowly gaining distance while Hagrid laughed heartily above him, along with those he carried.

The compartment doors slid open suddenly, and all the students were peering out them at Harry—all the students not in Hagrid's arms, of course. After a moment, they were cheering him on, chanting to him encouraging words and—

—and then they weren't encouraging at all, they were curses, both magic and otherwise. Harry was dodging the magical ones as best as he could, but it was understandingly difficult. Hagrid, above, did his best to support Harry, calling for the students to take their words back, or he'd have to let the Skrewts do it for them.

Harry's vision blurred as the strain seemed to double, and he very nearly collapsed. The train was spinning round him, and the colours were...off, he thought. Everything was generally purple with bits of green thrown in for flavour... and then the train _really _spun, right off the track. The precarious tower of people collapsed upon itself, and Harry hit his head on something...he couldn't remember where he was, all of a sudden, or...who he was...what he was doing on a train...was it a train?...it seemed too motionless to be a train, and too...upside-down.

Harry was still on the floor, however—so he was on the _ceiling_, it seemed, hanging down with his feet miraculously sticking to the surface above—all was still now, and Harry wondered if the people down below him would know what had happened...or if they could tell him who they were. It would be nice to know somebody.

Harry tried in vain to get down to them...to dislodge himself from the ground above him, but to no avail. He was stuck, that was for sure, and he didn't know what this tingling feeling in his head was, but it felt..._woooo._...

A red glint appeared in Harry's vision, and it _was _red now, Harry's eyes weren't playing games any longer with colour. The glint neared him and there stood Ginny, smiling slightly at him.

__

Ginny. Harry remembered Ginny...how could anyone ever forget Ginny?

He smiled slightly back at her, and she reached a hand up to help him down from the floor. Before he could grasp it, however, she pulled back slightly and looked him in the eye.

"You _could _just tell them, you know. It would save so much trouble."

Harry blinked. "Tell them what?" he asked, curious. "Tell who what?"

Ginny's smile turned upside-down...or had it ever been a smile at all? Harry wasn't sure, because _now _it looked almost like a smile, and he was upside-down, so did that mean that—

"You know who," she said. "Tell him."

"I thought you said 'them'," Harry said, and Ginny smirked, grabbed his hand, and pulled him violently to the ceiling.

When he hit, his eyes opened, and he was breathing heavily. He was...sitting in the corridor...his back was to the wall...between the loos. That was it. He was in the corridor. He had been going to the loo, and he had found Seamus and Lavender, and he had nearly vomited, and he had...

...fallen asleep?

He couldn't remember falling asleep.

——

"So, Ronald," said Luna casually, cradling her head in her hands and peering at Ron from across the way, "have I told you what I'm going to be doing this summer?"

"Er...," said Ronald, and then said: "Does it have to do with...horses?"

"Why would it have to do with horses?" Luna asked. "Have you ever ridden?"

"No," said Ron, shaking his head.

"Yes, I know," said Luna, nodding. "But why was that the first thing you guessed?"

Ron let out a sigh. "No reason." He decided to play along once again, though he still didn't know why. "So, what are you going to be doing this summer?"

"I don't know," said Luna. "I don't plan those sort of things. Why do you ask?"

Ron blinked several times, opened his mouth, almost informed Luna that that didn't make any sense, thought better of it, closed his mouth, and blinked again.

"What I'd _like _to do, however," said Luna, "would be to go to Egypt. You've done that, of course. And, in this dream vacation of mine, you would be my tour guide, you know, and you would show me round all the caves and castles—"

"There aren't any caves and castles," said Ron. "There're tombs, and pyramids, but there aren't any castles. Or caves."

"Well, this is my _dream _vacation, you remember, and if dreams were grounded in reality, life would be very interesting, wouldn't it?"

Luna cleared her throat. "You would be my tour guide, like I said, and you'd make a silly, hilarious joke and I wouldn't be able to help myself laughing, and the sound of my laugh would make the cave entrance collapse, and we would be trapped in the Egyptian cave, and—"

"You know what?" said Ron, finally finished playing along. "I've got to go to the loo. Have a nice trip."

"I'm not going anywhere," said Luna, sounding confused. "I'll wait here, though," she added, as though he had asked her along with him.

"See you later, then," said Ron, and he stood, a crick in his back, to make his way down to the loo.

——

Hermione walked impatiently to the door at the end of the train...she'd never thought she'd actually have to use it...but she _did_ have to, and she muttered the password very, very quietly:

"_Over the moon,_" she said, and the door clicked unlocked—she entered the room, and locked the door behind her.

This room had been Dumbledore's idea; he had feared that something would happen today, and he had summoned Hermione to his office very early that morning. He had told her of this room...told her that she was the only student who knew of its existence, and that she was to use it in the case that something...funny happened.

There was a large mirror where the window usually was...in other compartments. She walked up to it, and whispered:

"_Professor Dumbledore_."

The headmaster appeared in the mirror now, replacing Hermione's image with his own. He looked rather grim, and spoke with only a slight bit of humour in his voice:

"I take it you're not calling because you forgot to pack your socks? If you are, then I'll be happy to send them along—"

"No such luck, Professor," she said. "There's something strange happening."

"Please elaborate, if the details aren't too dreadful."

"Harry's lost his memory, or something like it—"

"There is nothing like memory, Miss Granger. Is the loss the result of a Memory Charm, or—"

"I don't know, professor. He just...he wasn't himself, he couldn't remember where Ginny'd gone to—"

Dumbledore looked suddenly much more worried than he had a moment before. "And where _did _Ginny go to?"

Hermione hesitated a moment. "I...don't really know, I came straight to you after seeing Harry. I haven't seen Ginny since before the prefect meeting—oh! The driver was acting funny too, professor, I'd completely forgotten. Not really like Harry at all, but—"

"Interesting." Dumbledore sighed, looking downward. "I'm afraid there is not much I can do...it is impossible to Apparate onto the train...and a Portkey would be far too risky, as one...one's timing would have to be exact..." He shook his head.

"Miss Granger, I'm going to advise you to be on-guard...on the look-out for anything out-of-the-ordinary. And if the situation worsens...bring Harry here, to this room. _Unobtrusively_, mind you. We don't need any...anyone to learn of that room that doesn't _need _to learn of that room. I trust you understand?"

"Yes, sir," said Hermione, nodding. Before she could turn to leave, Dumbledore asked another question:

"Miss Granger...I have a question. What would you consider your ideal summer holiday?"

Hermione blinked. "That doesn't seem very relevant—"

"Nonetheless; what would it be?"

Hermione thought a moment. "I don't really know...France, maybe. I really enjoyed France, a few summers ago—why?"

"Ah," said Dumbledore, sounding a tad disappointed. "I had been hoping you would say that your ideal vacation would be spending two months with the Weasleys at the Burrow."

"Why would you be hoping that?"

"Because I need you to be there, this summer, for two months," Dumbledore said, a slight twinkle in his eye. "An additional informant, if you will. An extra pair of eyes. I've already worked it out with your parents—or at least, I've owled them about it and said that there was really nothing I could do." He paused. "I suppose you're not going to be having your ideal vacation, then, sadly."

Hermione smiled. "You're serious? Then...I'll be going home with the Weasleys, will I? From Kings Cross? That will be...great, Professor. Thank you."

The headmaster's eyes became slightly misty for a moment: "I only wish I could give Harry the same arrangement..." They cleared. "But we have more pressing matters with Harry, at the moment, don't we?"

"Yes, sir," said Hermione, nodding.

She turned round, making as though to leave, but hesitated. "Professor," she said, "what do _you _think is wrong with Harry?"

She turned round again now, to face Dumbledore—but the mirror was empty. He had gone.

——

Harry was resting his eyes. He wasn't sleeping, of course not. He couldn't...he couldn't dream of sleeping, no pun intended, after...after _that._

He felt, rather than heard, footsteps nearing him. Opening one eye, Harry saw that it was Ron, but didn't say anything.

Ron didn't even seem to notice Harry sitting against the wall of the corridor...he walked round him, knocking on the boys' loo door. There was no answer. Harry looked up just then, and began to say: "There's someone in there—" when Ron opened the door. His eyes widened.

"Bloody hell! You...have to do that in the loo? Can't you find a...broom closet, or something?"

Harry half-smiled. _Yes, that's the prefect's way to deal with it, Ron. 'Course it is._

A dishevelled Seamus practically fell out of the door, and Lavender, a moment later, followed a bit more gracefully. All four of their cheeks were bright red, and Ron watched as they scrambled down the corridor, unbalanced—both of them tripping over Harry as they went. Ron looked satisfied.

"That'll show 'em."

Then, as Ron was turning back to enter the loo, he seemed to notice Harry for the first time. "Harry! What are you...have you been talking with Luna, by any chance?"

Harry furrowed his brow. "Huh?"

"No, it's just that...you're sitting in the corridor...just sitting there. It seems like something Luna would do." Now _his _cheeks reddened slightly. "Not that I'd know anything about that."

"I wasn't just sitting here," said Harry. "I was waiting to use the loo."

"Oh," said Ron, nodding in understanding. "Well, I'll just be a minute, then."

The door shut, and Harry closed his eyes again, resting. He was dreadfully tired.

He felt footsteps again, and this time they were coming from his left side. They were...quicker, more urgent, than Ron's, more purposeful. He opened an eye: it was Hermione. He felt that he should have known that, somehow, but hadn't.

She, however, hadn't known it was him, hadn't expected it would be him, there in the corridor, quite simply because she hadn't expected anyone there in the corridor. So in a moment, her steady, purposeful stride collapsed in a heap on the floor, tripping over Harry.

"Oh!" she said. "I'm so sorry, I didn't even—" She finally managed to turn round. "Harry! What are you doing out here? You haven't..." Her eyes widened worriedly, and she kneeled, tucking a hair behind her ear. "You haven't forgotten where you're supposed to sit, have you?"

He shook his head. "I'm waiting for the loo," he said.

Hermione furrowed her brow. "How long have you been waiting?"

Harry shrugged a shoulder. "Ten, fifteen minutes," he offered, and Hermione's eyes widened once again, though this time because she was scandalised.

She stood, and pounded a fist on the door. "Who's in there?" she asked.

"I'll be out in a minute, Hermione!" called Ron's voice from inside. "Her—mione? What are you...this is the boys' loo!"

"I know that, you idiot! But Harry's been waiting out here for fifteen minutes! What are you doing in there? I know you're not reading..."

"I know Harry's out there! And I'll be out in a—"

"You _know _Harry's out here? And you made him _wait?_"

"I had to go!"

"Hermione, it's all right, really," said Harry, but Hermione wasn't listening.

"Ron Weasley, you get out of that loo this minute, and let Harry go. Only a complete _prat _would keep him waiting like this, especially in this condition...!"

The door swung in, and Ron's face appeared, looking worried rather than angry.

"Condition?"

Hermione blinked. "You don't know?"

"Don't know what?"

Hermione looked uncomfortable all of a sudden, and looked up and down the corridor, as though to inspect it for bugs. Apparently coming to a decision, she pushed Ron back into the loo, stepped in after him, and locked the door behind them.

Harry's mouth dropped open, unsure of what was going on. He hesitated a minute, and then called to them:

"I'll just wait, then!"

——

"What the...Hermione, what are you doing?"

Hermione was leaning against the inside of the door, trying perhaps to think of a way to phrase what she was going to say.

"We have to be quiet, Ron. We can't let anyone hear—"

"_Excuse me?_" Ron said, thoughts of Seamus and Lavender fresh in his mind, his brow furrowed. "I'm sure that I heard you wrong...

"What? No, I'm serious. We have to be quiet. What I'm about to tell you cannot be overheard by anyone."

"Oh," said Ron, nodding. "I figured as much." He paused. "So...?"

"Harry's lost his memory."

"_What?_" Ron said, of course forgetting everything Hermione had told him and practically shouting. He remembered, then, and perhaps thought he'd spoken too loud for Hermione to hear, so he repeated it in a soft hiss: "_What?_"

"I said, Harry's lost his memory. Just recent things, I think—but I'm not sure. We have to be careful., and not let him out of our sight. That's why I had to take you in here: I couldn't let anyone overhear."

"But he's just...lost his memory? How could he lose his memory? Did someone _Obliviate _him? But...wasn't Ginny with him? How could she let...hang on. Where's Ginny? I haven't seen her since—"

"Shh!" said Hermione again. "You're getting too loud again."

"But where's Ginny?" Ron said, sounding slightly worried. "Have you seen her since—"

"I'm sure Ginny's fine, Ron," said Hermione, and suddenly there was an odd feeling beneath their feet...as though the train was beginning to slow down, but then it was completely stopped and was starting up again, the next moment. It was one of the strangest things either of them had ever felt, and one of the most significant, though they didn't know that.

This sensation brought to the forefront of their minds something that had been said a moment ago, but neither had paid in much attention...Hermione had said it, but they couldn't really remember that. All they could remember was what it meant:

__

We have to be careful...and not let him out of our sight.

__

...and not let him out of our sight.

__

...out of our sight.

Ron's eyes jumped up to Hermione's and Hermione's to Ron's, both of them realising at precisely the same moment that they _had _let Harry out of their sight, that they had left him out there in the corridor while they had spoken...that they had left him alone.

They practically scrambled for the door, Hermione finally managing to open it, flinging it open and into Ron's face, which hurt dreadfully, but he didn't really notice. In the corridor, their worst fears were confirmed.

Harry was gone.

__

TBC


	2. Unforgotten

Truth Be Told  
_ Potter47_ _ Part II  
Unforgotten_

"I'll just wait, then!" called Harry as the loo door shut to his side, and he very nearly laughed at the absurdity of it all:

First, he had lost his memory and driven Ginny to tears after she had, out of nowhere, snogged the life out of him in just a moment; then, he had to go to the loo, but of course it was occupied, so he had plopped down in the middle of the corridor to be tripped over not once, not twice, but _three times, _by different people. But no, he didn't move. And now, Hermione had threatened Ron out of the loo, and then pushed him back in _with her..._Harry shook his head. Things sure had changed since the last time he could remember.

And now, he sat in silence, just short of laughter, as he heard soft sobs, which pretty much took the laughter out of him in a flash; he _knew _those sobs, as much as he wished he didn't. It was Ginny. But...where was she? He didn't feel her footsteps coming, didn't see her in either direction, and of course she wasn't in the boys' loo with Ron and Hermione, so...

She sobbed again, and he knew: she was in the girls' loo, and probably had been the entire time. _Of course she has been—I would have felt her if she walked by._

"_Oh, God,_" said the muffled sound that was Ginny, and Harry wondered why he couldn't hear Ron and Hermione, but he could hear Ginny clear as a bell.

He pressed his ear to the wall, and now he could hear even better, though there wasn't really anything else to hear; just the same sniffling and sobbing, with the occasional muffled exclamation thrown in for good measure.

Finally, Harry stood, and it felt rather painful to do so. He rubbed his back as he put his ear to the door, instead of the wall beside the door, and he knocked with his knuckles, causing a sudden hitch in Ginny's breathing.

"Uh—I'll be out in a minute...!" said Ginny, and her voice sounded so miserable that Harry imagined she had it much worse than he...but then, isn't not remembering often much preferable to remembering? Isn't that why people go to such lengths to forget?

"You don't need to hurry," Harry said, shaking his head as though she could see him. "I just...are you OK?"

"Harry?" Ginny said, and Harry wondered just how much a girl could cry before...running out of tears, or something. _Apparently a lot, _he reckoned.

"Yeah, it's me."

"You don't...you still don't remember, right?" she said, with what seemed to be a slight bit of hope at the edge of her voice, as though hesitant to make itself known. Harry felt terrible to extinguish it, but he did anyway:

"No, I don't," he said, sliding down the door into a sitting position again, in a very sad way, and he couldn't figure how a movement could be sad, but it was. "But I wish I did. Are you...all right?"

"I'm fine," she said, which was obviously not true. "Just a little emotional right now. Sorry."

"You have every reason to be emotional," said Harry, unsure whether that was a good thing to say or not; it seemed rather hollow, considering he didn't even know exactly what she was emotional about.

Silence.

"It's horrible, you know," said Ginny finally, breaking into the soundless, pulsating air that was almost painful. "You can't possibly understand...I wouldn't want anyone to _have _to understand, but...it's just...oh, never mind."

"Ginny?" said Harry again. "It's all right, Ginny, everything's going to be fine..."

"You'd think that, wouldn't you?" she said, and he didn't know what she meant. "But of course, you don't even know what's wrong, so how would you know?" Silence again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that like that, I'm just...yeah, very emotional at the—" _hiccough_ "—moment."

Harry didn't really think that this conversation was going anywhere...they seemed to be saying the same things, over and over again. Perhaps he just didn't understand it all well enough to know what to say.

But then Harry knew what he had wanted to say, what he had meant to say since the beginning of this...odyssey.

"What happened, Ginny? What happened that I don't remember?"

Ginny was silent.

"Ginny?"

"Well...where to begin?" Ginny said, sounding almost as though she were giving in to something, but Harry couldn't figure what. Almost as though... almost as though she had just noticed that he _really _wanted to know, that he really _didn't_ know.

"The beginning sounds pretty good to me," said Harry, almost-smiling in an almost-wryly sort of way.

"OK then...we came to school. Nothing really out of the ordinary, not for you, anyway, until...until Halloween."

"Halloween?" questioned Harry.

"Yeah, it's this holiday, the thirty-first of October, where people go around and—" A beat. "That was a horrible joke."

"What happened on Halloween?" said Harry now, and Ginny told him.

"That night, Halloween night...I had this dream. When I was lying down, in my bed...staring at the ceiling—I don't remember if I was actually asleep or not, because it was as though the dream played itself out on my ceiling, like I was just watching it. Riddle—You-Know-Who—somewhere in between, actually, I reckon...he was...young, but he didn't really look so much like Tom, and he didn't...he didn't resemble _you_ at all, I know that."

Ginny sniffled, and Harry felt, somehow, her wiping a tear away in frustration. She continued:

"I was there, with him, with...Tomdemort, I'll call him. I was standing with him in this place, this empty place, like an abandoned street, and he...he was saying something about...about what would happen when he—"

A phrase arose in Harry's mind suddenly, a phrase and he didn't precisely know where it had come from.

"_When he killed someone important to your world?_" he finished for her, and he could _feel_ her blinking in confusion, and he wondered, once again, how he could do that.

"Yeah," she said, nodding-though-he-couldn't-see.

Silence, for a long time, as though each of them thought the other had something to say...Harry didn't, of course, but Ginny did:

"And then, I came down to the common room, after that. I just...I couldn't sleep, I couldn't keep Tomdemort out of my head...and I was sitting by the fire...and then so were you. You came down the stairs, and I could...I could _feel _you, I could feel you coming without having to look round, and..."

"...and I'd had the same dream."

She nodded-though-he-couldn't-see once again.

"You remember?" she said, with that hope in her voice once more, but it seemed rather deflated. He shook his head, and he felt she could tell, somehow, just as he could.

"I just could...feel what you were going to say...it was in my head before you said it, almost. I don't...understand it," he said, and she nodded.

"The same thing happened for a week or so, every night, and after each dream we'd sit by the fire together, thinking, never talking. And over the year, we had more dreams, more thoughts we shared that no one else had. We...all year long, we had this..._connection_." Ginny sniffled once more. "And now you've _forgotten _it. How could you forget it? It was...it was the best thing that ever happened to you—" She stopped, now, and stood, and opened the door, and Harry fell in, but he didn't even really notice. She kneeled down to him, and he straightened up, and they looked each other in the eye as she spoke the words...and the _connection_ was there, that amazing thing that had been nearly broken.

"You told me that," she said. "You told me that, and now you've forgotten."

"We were...together?" Harry asked, feeling a bit dizzy as a rush of feeling flowed through his veins, a liquid-feeling that was so much more precious than blood. "Like Seamus and Lavender, that sort of thing?"

A crooked smile faded onto Ginny's face, however tightly and obscured by tears it was. "Not quite as much as Seamus and Lavender. But..._so _much more than Seamus and Lavender."

Harry felt all his soul reaching out to Ginny, and hers towards him...his soul remembered everything about her, every secret she had ever told him, every caress he had ever felt...

...if only his mind could remember as well. As it were, he was two people at the same time, one who remembered and one who didn't, and the not-remembering one was just a little too strong, so that he could..._almost _remember everything..._almost..._but not quite.

Ginny reached a hand to his cheek, and he felt her touch...so soft and strangely fluid, so smooth that his own eyes filled with tears. That touch seemed to slow time itself, slowing the train until it wasn't moving at all.

"Ginny..."

Her hand pulled back, slightly, so that only her fingertips were against his skin, and she spoke in the saddest little voice, barely even a whisper:

"You really don't remember, do you?"

"I'm trying, Ginny. I'm..._really _trying."

"Try harder," said a voice behind Harry, a hissing, cold, voice that had haunted his dreams for ever.

He didn't need to turn around to know who it was, of course. Ginny did not seem very surprised, for some reason.

"_Subsisto Temporis!_" hissed Lord Voldemort, and though Harry had felt time had been slowing before...that had only been the train slowing, he knew. _This _was time slowing, slowing, slowing to a stop, and it couldn't be mistaken for anything else. Time had stopped, and only the three of them, Voldemort, Harry, and Ginny, were awake to the world.

"We need to talk, Harry," said Voldemort, and Harry felt his head spun round as though pulled by the opposite ear, so that he was facing the Dark Lord. Ginny was as well, but she had been facing that direction to begin with.

Harry felt his hands bind together with magical rope, and he felt Ginny feel the same. They were attached to a _leash,_ as it were, and Voldemort was holding the end.

"Come, Harry. Ginny. Let's go for a walk."

——

Voldemort pulled them by the leash, tightening it painfully round their wrists. "I'm going to take you along the train...and we're going to walk quickly. You have until we reach the end of the train to tell me what I want to hear."

"And what is that?" said Ginny, though for some reason, she seemed already to know.

"We'll get to that in a moment. But first, you need to tell me what _I_ want to know."

Ginny blinked. That was what she had said.

"What I need to know, what I need to _understand _better..." He seemed to be trying to phrase his question in such a way that they wouldn't see through it, wouldn't hold back because they didn't know what he was really asking. "Tell me, Potter, _Ginevra,_ what would you do, if you could do anything? Tell me now, and don't ask questions."

"What..." began Ginny, shaking her head (it struck Harry as odd, how she spoke, because she seemed to almost be reciting words she had thought of earlier), "You want to know...what? Our ideal summer holiday? Why on earth—"

"I said not to ask questions, _Ginny_," said the Dark Lord, and at that moment he appeared younger, appeared more Riddle than Voldemort, and that was strange. He tugged them along the corridor, now, and he said, "Start talking."

When neither said a word, he stopped, and turned round, a sneer upon his face. "And I had so hoped you would cooperate. Oh, well..._Desiderium!_"

Harry felt this strange feeling all of a sudden...as though he were standing in front of a large audience, and was supposed to be saying something...as though he was sitting in the front of the Great Hall, and he was supposed to _tell them now_.

But he knew what he was being asked this time, and it certainly couldn't be the same thing that he was supposed to _tell them_. He was being asked what he wanted to do for summer vacation, and that was, understandingly, an odd thing to be asked when interrogated by the Dark Lord.

"I...for summer, I'd...want to be at the Burrow. I would want to...we'd play Quidditch, up in the field, and Ginny, she'd be on my team, even if that isn't really fair...Ron'll only have Hermione this summer, anyway, with the twins as busy as they've been—"

The Dark Lord's face contorted in a fit of rage, though Harry couldn't see why. "No, no, NO!" he said, and, faster than Harry could have imagined, Voldemort reached out and slapped him across the face with such force that it knocked Harry to the ground, causing the leash to tighten painfully round his wrists. "Why aren't you saying it?" Voldemort demanded impatiently. "What are you _talking about, _Potter?"

Harry was immensely confused and felt that he could ask the Dark Lord the same question.

"Tell me. Now, Harry. Tell me what you wouldn't tell _them_."

"I don't remember! You made me forget, how do you expect me to tell you?"

The Dark Lord furrowed what could only be called his brow. "_I_ made you forget? What do you...why would I have you forget the thing I need to know?" He appeared genuinely confused, but then a moment later he appeared to be fine again: "You lie, Potter. You didn't forget anything at all. Good try, though. Now tell me."

"_You're _the liar, Voldemort," said Harry, but he wasn't really so sure...why _would _the Dark Lord make him forget it, if he so wished to know it? And how would he make him forget in the first place?

__

He can't know, said a voice in Harry's mind. _He can't find out._

It was...as though something deep inside of him had sent his brain a secret message...an odd sensation to be sure.

Don't remember.

Harry said nothing, and Voldemort's face contorted once again.

Voldemort turned to Ginny, quick as a flash. "_Desiderium!_" he said, and Ginny's eyes began to tear. She swallowed a moment, and then spoke in a voice that was not cutting but cut, a voice that seemed to have been sliced at the vocal chord. The words had a musical quality to them, as though they were part of a poem, or...a spell.

_ Summer finds me in a dream:  
A paper-boat on parchment stream,  
Adventures live on liquid wind,  
A blanket in a basket pinned..._

The world has changed now.

The darkness once a part of me,  
Has gone, has faded like that dream,  
And though I now can still remember  
Burning flesh in dying embers...

The dark has gone now.

The truth, they say, will set you free  
You want the truth? Then here it be:—  


Ginny stopped suddenly, and a grin slowly formed on her mouth. Voldemort, whose eyes had been slowly glowing in anticipation, in triumph...his mouth fell slack a moment, before his eyes widened and his nostrils flared.

"Why do you stop, Weasley? I am far too busy for games, girl—"

Ginny's grin grew wider, and she glanced at Harry with her own gleam of triumph.

"That's all there is," she said, and yes, it was...it was as though that strange poem she had recited—that strange, almost spell-like thing that really didn't seem much like a spell at all, Harry realised, and wondered why he immediately thought of it as one—had been written on a parchment that had been torn in two; all Ginny could read was what she had, and that was what she had done. But it was not enough. Not for Voldemort.

Not for Voldemort, who lunged then in rage, forgetting, apparently, that he was holding the leash that controlled the two of them—he lunged at Harry, though Harry had expected him to lunge at Ginny, and had been just about ready to help her—but being lunged at himself threw him off completely.

Voldemort held Harry down with his hands round the boy's neck, pushing him into the corridor floor. Harry couldn't breathe, not at all, and he felt for sure that this was it, this was the end; after all, he was quite plainly 'at the hand of' Voldemort...

But then the hands were gone, because Voldemort was gone, and the train was gone, and everything was gone. Harry was lying on the ground, though he didn't really know what ground he was on, or where he was.

He got to his feet, and looked round him—it was dark, very dark, and he could tell that he was outside. He could feel the wind at his face, and he could _smell _the outdoors, feel it, taste it...almost as though he were flying with his feet on the ground.

In the distance, he suddenly saw a fire flicker into existence...at a point in the woods, the woods that Harry had just noticed were a few hundred feet away, as opposed to the field that he had just noticed he was standing in.

Harry walked towards the fire, steadily, steadily, until he suddenly heard..._galloping?_

Yes, it was galloping; a horse was charging away from the fire, straight at Harry, with two people on it.

"_Ronald!_" called the person in back, and it was Luna, and the horse charged right by Harry, the wind of its passing causing him to spin slightly where he was standing. A moment later came another horse, this one carrying only one rider.

"I'm coming, Luna!" called Ron, from atop the horse, and he was wearing the silliest looking clothes...Harry couldn't describe them, because Ron had gone as soon as he had appeared.

The world settled down a moment, and Harry suddenly knew where he was, though he surely had been somewhere entirely different a moment before. He was near the Burrow, now, up in the field where they played Quidditch. More specifically... he was up in the _air _where they played Quidditch.

He couldn't control his broom, it seemed, and Ron and Hermione and Ginny looked on in confusion as he sped away from their game back towards the Burrow, and Ginny looked at him in confusion once again as he crashed through her bedroom window, from where she sat on the bed. For some reason that seemed perfectly obvious, she was piecing together a model of the Eiffel Tower.

"Harry? What are you doing here?" she said.

"I can't tell them," Harry said, leaping down off of his broom and letting the words flow out of his mouth. "I can't let them know about the spell, they can't find out—"

"It's all right, Harry," said Ginny, nodding reassuringly and placing her model to the side. "Everything's all right...except... you can't breathe."

And then Harry couldn't, again, and Voldemort was above him, pressing down and nothing had happened at all, and he had been there the whole time.

Suddenly, the train started moving again, launching the Dark Lord off of Harry with its sudden jolt. Harry didn't understand what had happened...or why the train was moving, when no one seemed to have 'woken up.'

"Hey, Harry," said Ginny, grabbing him by the arm, "how 'bout we run now?"

Harry didn't know where they were supposed to be running to, but he ran anyway, ran as fast as he could while trying to regain his breath. Ginny seemed determined, as though she were looking for something. Voldemort was not far behind, and...Harry wondered why the Dark Lord didn't use magic to stop them, or to catch up.

Suddenly, though Harry had (following Ginny's lead) run right past Luna Lovegood, who just happened to be sitting in the middle of the corridor, Voldemort did not—his feet collided with her in what probably would have been a very painful fashion, if she were able to feel it. Voldemort went sprawling. Ginny took the opportunity to hesitate.

"Damn," she said, looking round. "Wrong way."

She turned round then, and ran back the way she came, barely giving Harry enough time to keep up with her. Voldemort, standing rather shakily, at first, took a moment to regain his bearings before charging after them, being careful to avoid Luna this time.

"You don't think you can _run away _from me, do you, Harry? Ginny? There's nowhere to run, you know that—we're on a train. A _moving_ one, now that the spell is wearing off..."

They ran and they ran and they ran and Harry felt that the train had never seemed quite so long before...finally, they were approaching the opposite end.

"Where are you _going?_" Voldemort called, a bit of humour in his voice. "What, are you going to _jump?_"

"Where _are _we going, Ginny?" Harry asked, quieter. Ginny halted suddenly, pressing herself against a door and muttering, "Over the moon."

__

That's a strange answer, Harry thought, but then he realised it was a password, and that it opened the door. He had never heard of a secret compartment on the train—no pun intended—and he wondered if it had always been there.

Ginny pulled him inside, grabbing him by the same arm that had started the marathon, and slammed the door behind him. She slid down the side of the door, sitting at its foot and trying to catch her breath.

"What is this place?" Harry whispered, looking into the strange mirror that rested on the wall.

"You don't need to whisper. He can't hear us," said Ginny, sounding as though she were trying to think."

"I think I'll whisper anyway, thanks," Harry said, and he slid down next to Ginny against the door. From outside, they could hear Voldemort cursing—both magically and otherwise—trying to unlock the door, to break through its wards; he couldn't manage it.

A few moments passed, and then Ginny seemed to remember that Harry had asked a question. "This room is sort of like a safe room," she said. "No one can get in if you don't want them to get in, and nothing can get out that's not supposed to get out—like thoughts, and words, and such. That mirror—" and she gestured to the shining glass hanging opposite them, "—is connected to one in Dumbledore's office. He can—"

She was going to continue, but at the mention of Dumbledore's name, the mirror changed, and the headmaster was sitting there, looking at them.

"I thought time was stopped," was the first thing that came into Harry's mind and out of his mouth.

"Time never stops, Harry," said Dumbledore. "If one could stop time, I would not have nearly as many grey hairs." He paused. "It is good to see that you were able to reach the room, Miss Weasley. I had hoped that Miss Granger or yourself would be able to do it if the need arose..."

Ginny furrowed her brow. "Hermione knows about this place? You said I was the only student who knew of its existence."

Dumbledore hesitated. "Oh, yes; so I did. I believe I said the same thing to her, actually...what a silly mistake." But of course he had known what he was doing.

"Professor, I dunno if you know, but Voldemort's right outside this compartment," said Harry, slightly edgy for some reason. "Is there possibly anything you can do to help us?"

"No need," said Dumbledore. "You've helped yourselves as much as you've needed help. When the train stopped, I was alerted immediately, and Aurors have been dispatched. I see that Voldemort appeared to stop time? A spell like that only works in a contained area, as you probably don't know, time-stopping being a Dark Art. Out here, nothing has changed.

"Voldemort does not like being alone when faced with many of his enemies, and he is at the moment—no. He's already gone." Dumbledore had looked at some point that seemed to be below his mirror, perhaps some sort of monitoring device. "He's fled just as they were arriving. You'll be all right."

Everything was happening at a sort of odd pace, in Harry's head, with quite sudden starts and stops and now a very anticlimactic ending to the run-in with Voldemort...he almost felt dizzy.

And then he remembered that he had forgotten.

Neither Harry nor Ginny moved for a very long time; long after Dumbledore had disappeared into reflection. They stared at the empty mirror for a while, still trying to catch their breath. And then, Ginny spoke:

"He's going to come back," she said. "We still have to be careful with it."

Harry furrowed his brow. "With what?" he said.

"What do you mean, _with what?_" she echoed. "With the spell, of course—"

And then recollection dawned on her face. "Oh! I'd completely forgotten."

And it was then that Harry realised how _not crying _Ginny had been since Voldemort had come, how...easily she seemed to recover from the sorrow she had been in only moments ago. And things started to fall into place in his mind, slowly but surely, but surely not enough to deem his memory back in place. Ginny didn't seem to notice, however.

She placed her hand on his forehead, as though cooling a fevered brow, and closed her own eyes as he closed his. She spoke:

"_Reiterate._"

And then, he remembered.

_

——

_

"Ron! We're going to be late...the prefect's meeting, remember? Luna...well, you too," Hermione said, rushing out of the compartment and practically running towards the front of the train. Ron and Luna didn't really struggle to keep up, not particularly.

"So," said Ginny, grinning at Harry mischievously. "They've all gone and left us alone. Shame on them. Whatever shall we do to pass the time...?"

Harry grinned back. Ginny leaned over, her eyes sliding closed, and just as their lips touched...

"GAH!" Harry shouted, collapsing to the floor in pain. His hands were clasped over his forehead, over his scar, and his breathing was ragged, and his face was contorted.

"Harry!" Ginny said, down by his side in a flash taking hold of his arm and looking into his face worriedly. "Harry, are you...are you going to be all right?"

It may have been a coincidence...but when she grasped his arm, the pain faded, and he could relax, he could breathe, in and out, in and out. He opened his eyes now, which he couldn't remember closing, and looked Ginny in the face.

"He's coming."

Ginny didn't need to ask who, of course.

"To the train? He's coming to the train? But...how can he—"

"He's going to stop the train first," Harry said. "And then he can make a Portkey...he was explaining it to the Death Eaters, he was...I saw him, I saw them, he was...he was exuberant. _That word stuck in my mind, I don't know why..."_

"But...he can't find out, about it, about the spell—"

Harry's eyes widened. "I'd forgotten," he said. "You're right...if he can find that, then it's..."

"We can't let him," said Ginny. "It's just what we've talked about, we've always said...why we separated it, so that if he found one of us, he couldn't..."

"But we're together," Harry said, and the words had a sort of finality about them, a sort of resounding voice that discouraged all further thought for a while that was almost too long.

"So..." Ginny said, and her next words seemed oddly like an echo: "So what will we do?"

Harry watched out the window for a moment, and then, he perhaps thought that Voldemort would be able to see him there, so he jumped away. And then an idea formed in his mind, one that should have been more obvious than it had...

"Ginny...this is going to sound crazy, but...I need you to Obliviate me."

Finis.


End file.
